Day in the Life
by Coin
Summary: Spot has a secret. He isn't a murderer, he doesn't do drugs, he doesn't abuse his girlfriend, he isn't gay. He just wants control.
1. Neat little square

It is quite obvious that the mirror hates me. It mocks my every movement and forces me to cringe as I see the bulges. There are always there. I starve myself to the point that I can't make it through the day without napping yet they are there. My hair and face waste away, but the fat will always be there. And the mirror loves to remind me of that.

I throw on some clothes, always baggy and look at the puffy skin under my eyes…also always baggy. For a second, I care but then I roll my eyes…

"You're the only one that cares, Spot."

Downstairs my mom hands me a cup of coffee, kisses my head, and runs out the door. All she's good for is coffee. She doesn't talk much, and when she does its drunken "I'm better than you" banter so I usually walk away. I mix in the Sweet and Low and smile. Kids across town are drinking Starbucks and eating bagels, filling there bodies with disgusting food. But I'll be walking to school fresh and empty. What a perfect feeling.

The hallways are crowded but I find my friends immediately. We are the popular ones and everyone hates us. There are roughly twenty of us and the football players and smart kids roll their eyes everyday as we remind them that we are both jocks and geeks but with better clothes and hair. We listen to good music, but we can dance to the crappy music at the prom. Members of the opposite sex think we're hot, but respect us. We're the kids you hate because you're not invited to our parties or because you don't understand our hidden jokes. Everyone at NPHS is dying for one of our cheesy nicknames.

You'd think being a part of this group would give me some sense of self-confidence. That would make sense; however, it is not true. Instead I am jealous of my best friends and fellow soccer players because Jack has all-American good looks, Mush has an amazing body, Race is funny, and David is smart.

I am…cocky. I am boring. I am silent when I should speak. But most of all I have a bad temper. My anger can never be controlled.

So I control what goes into my mouth.

The boys give me the typical boy welcome, a handshake modified by MTV. The girls all give me hugs.

Why does everyone always flirt with me?

Lauren is particularly obnoxious this morning. She kisses me on the cheek and makes sure that I notice that the wife beater she is wearing must be for an extra small young boy. I try to be nice but it's hard. Lauren is sweet, her house is great for parties and she is gorgeous, but I am never in the mood for anyone to look at me the way she looks at me. 

I walk off to homeroom, barely keeping my eyes open. Jessica catches up with me and hands me a note folded into a little square. 


	2. xoxo jess

_Spot,_

_SUUUUUUUUUP? Lol. Uhm. Well…this is kind of serious. I've been noticing that you don't eat a lot. Are you sick? Do you just eat at home? Because when I was going to middle school in Iowa this girl Naomi was anorexic, she never ate. Are you anorexic? I hope not. You can always talk to me. lylab!_

_xoxo jess_

I look around me in homeroom. Katie is sleeping, Jackie is complaining about her boyfriend, Albert is lying and Tyrell is fixing his shoes.

No one I like is in my homeroom. I start to shake, but I'm trying to make sure no one notices. Jackie asks me if I'm alright and I nod. She then takes out a pop tart and starts stuffing her face. She has no control. I breathe. I do have control.

The note gets ripped into tiny pieces, the little hearts over the "i's" and all. I shake it off like you shake off a fall in soccer. You've got to suck it up, be a man.

The bell rings, homeroom is over.

Moving on to Advanced Placement English. Everyone I know is in the class…including Jessica. I haven't thought out any response and I don't know what to do. What is it with girls and their little notes folded into squares? Girls never actually speak to each other; they correspond through candy floss colored ink. It is annoying.

A lot of things annoy me. I wonder if that's why all supermodels are bitchy.

I walk in with self-assurance even though Jessica's note (which fully proves how stupid she is) has shaken my confidence. I take my seat as Jack proceeds to tell me that his homeroom teacher made the quarterback of the football team break down and cry because she's giving him a detention for being late. I absorb the information, pretend to care, and let out a little fake laugh. My mind is racing.

How did Jess get into AP English? Why is Jack so skinny? How come David is staring at Nora like that? Where is the English teacher?

"YES! WE HAVE A SUBSTITUTE," Anna calls out to the whole room as she walks in late. Anna always knows who is absent and when clubs have their meetings because she does the morning announcements. Anna really hates school, but she goes out with David. I guess opposites really do attract. Anyway, Anna and I hate each other. We play the same position in soccer and we both like Converse but we hate each other. I put my head down on the desk and prepare myself to sleep for an extra forty minutes.

"Eh…Spot?...Spot. SPOT." Jess just keeps repeating my name over and over and over again.

I'd love to smack her in the face.

"Did you read my note?" She asks eagerly.

"Yes, I'm fine though, thanks for your concern," I reply effortlessly. I do not stutter and my voice doesn't get higher like it does when I'm nervous.

It is the first time I have ever lied perfectly.


	3. The World May Never Know

Sleeping is a beautiful thing. At night, I'll procrastinate by clicking on websites written by people a whole lot like me.

Only difference is that they're girls and they're proud of what we do. They write long winded paragraphs that sound like love letters to coffee, sleep and that powerful feeling you get when you don't eat. They are the girls that assume that because anorexia makes them skinny, anorexia makes them perfect. I'm not sure that they're all girls, but the pink font and poems about butterflies make me think that they are. The websites try to make you think their way of life is just as acceptable as people who choose to be certain religion. They worship at the altar of emptiness and none of them are ashamed of it.

But I know I am completely flawed. As I read through their blog entries I assume that their lives have to be messed up for them to be like this. To be proud of having a disease they initiated is something underprivileged crazy people do. I know that the only reason why I feel guilty of starving myself is that I am lucky; I am just far too self-conscious for my own good.

My life is pretty perfect. I live in a well to do town, with one the largest and best school districts in the country. To get into my school, you had to be chosen for a sports team and I was good enough to get into one of the best soccer programs in the country. My perfect kicks that I aim for right under the post and my footwork got me into the best high school team for miles. Other coaches grimace when they see my school's name on the roster.

But really, intimidation is just smoke and mirrors. I am not cocky like I seem. I am not the leader of the soccer boys, the best boy in the school. I am just Spot. Small, insignificant, and annoying. When someone has a spot on their shirt, they take it off and put a new one on. If people really got to know me, they'd take me off and find a replacement. Jack has his dreams, Race has his good sense of humor, David has the ability to articulate exactly what he means, and Mush has his positive outlook. I've got anorexia.

What a horrible thing to have. Sometimes I think of telling someone. I'd probably tell Jack, because he's the one I trust the most, but what would I say? How could I tell him? He'd ask a million and one questions and he probably still wouldn't understand. I don't even understand.

I was never chubby. Why am I like this?

The world may never know.

I really want a Tootsie Roll pop. Those things are so good. Especially cherry ones.

I realize that I am dreaming of food and force myself to wake up.

A/N- Thank you for all of your reviews. They mean a lot. xoxo


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